The Ultimate Angst
by Gimme-Your-Eyes
Summary: Here it is the almighty MattMello angst group thing! If you reviewed either 'Taxi Ride', 'Too Young', or 'Hallelujah', which was up before this was made into a big compilation, please check this out!
1. Taxi Ride

A small hand found the elder's larger and clutched for dear life. Even if the dark-haired male didn't like direct touch, he wasn't about to let go; not for the world. The little blonde looked at the ground, with little tears stinging the corners of his eyes. The dark eyes of the elder faced the boy and those green eyes looked so desperate, strands of blonde hair falling into them. His hand clenched a bit harder, followed by the second hand, holding it tighter. Those long black sleeves fell over his wrists and one slid off his shoulder a bit.

"L," he whispered in a weak and cracking voice, "please don't go, please," he tugged a little bit, just a bit harder, as he gazed at him with those sad green eyes. "Y-you can't… " he gripped tighter and tilted his head down, the sounds of small little sobs passing his lips.

Those plain black eyes looked him over, before the male removed his hand slowly and knelt before him, touching his shoulder with his fingertips. The blonde raised a tear-stained visage to the other, before throwing his arms all the way around his neck and clutching for dear life.

"Mello," the elder whispered, reaching out to carefully tuck those blonde locks behind his ear and tilting his own head to the side, "don't worry. Chances are more than 90 that I'll be back shortly; it shouldn't be too complicated a case." A kiss was placed to a banged-temple and the little blonde closed his eyes tightly, watching him go with those green eyes. "I'll be home sooner than you can imagine."

Maybe that's why it hurt so much when he never came back.

Green eyes that should have never become hurt and pained and destroyed opened halfway and gazed at the ceiling fan in the old, beat-up apartment that he and his partner in crime had found. It was cheap, and he was sure that fan would fall and destroy both of them, and that the ceiling with it's mold and the walls with the paint flicks, the stains, the peeling of the wall paper would fall sometime soon and they'd be homeless again.

Sitting up as silently as he possibly could, as not to disturb the brunette stretched out under the thin blanket on the rotten mattress near him, he stood and pulled on his coat, taking a chocolate bar out of the pocket. His booted feet were silent 'til he was actually outside, looking around, cold puffs of air; clouds, as he remember L saying, jokingly; passing his lips as he took breath after breath. He pulled his hood up and his coat tighter around himself, the large scar covering the left side of his face stinging a bit in the cold.

His footsteps were even on the pavement—one, two, one, two, one—until he realized he'd just walked around in a circle and was in front of his apartment again. His solution was to simply sit on the front porch, hood hiding his gaze from the rest of the world, and his coat supporting just a bit of warmth.

His memory slid towards the tousled black hair and the tired but kind black eyes of his mentor and main caregiver. Of the way he would eat—it was so odd, he could remember he and Matt and Near all talking about it one time, even if later they had bullied Near to the point of crying—and of the way he rarely slept. Of the way he would talk to them until they were asleep—of the way he would sometimes fall asleep next to Mello's bed, if only for a short while. He'd never heard Near or Matt talk of that.

He could remember the way he smelled; like strawberries and cake and paper; and the way he spoke—such authority, and such brilliance—and just… him.

L.

His hand raised and covered his face, and he took a couple deep breaths to calm himself, the last one coming out in a shuddering breath. It still hurt. After all these years—just remembering the impact it had made on all three of them. L was _dead._ Simple as that. No remorse, no sorrow—not really.

He longed to hear the other's knowledge; his joys; hell, even his scolding, if it meant he was still there, still alive, still AROUND for them. He clenched his eyes shut and whispered the name, before doubt and anger crept into his mind.

As much as he loved L, why hadn't he decided on an heir? Why had he kept his mind straight? Had it been meant to go to Near? That he couldn't even comprehend; Near wasn't his favorite, was he? The way that the white-haired wretch had treated him—like property, like a little toy that he had to manipulate. His gaze slid up towards the stars and he looked at them, sighing a bit.

Then that trail of thought lead towards Matt, with that kind smile and those special, kind and loving touches meant only for HIM. The way he would calm him and comfort him—the way he would keep him from remembering things, if only for a little while. His lips parted a bit and he took a bite of the chocolate.

The way the other always brought him the drugs—the ANYTHING he asked for, without a second thought about it. What did Matt think their relationship was? Love? No, no, that couldn't be it—couldn't possibly… It was a horrible thought. Matt quite possibly loved him, but he knew where his heart belonged—if he even had one. Matt was close to him. Matt was amazing. Matt was his _everything_ while they pursued a way to beat Near to the finish line; but when it came down to it, he was very much-so L's.

Even after all of the time that had passed.

All he wanted was L's recognition. And if that meant pushing Matt into the background; stepping over and on anyone in his way; then he would do it without a second thought. L and _being _L were the only important things. Matt was third; fourth; even fifth on his list. But he saved room.

The touches were different than L's; than Near's; than anyone's. Matt wasn't tender, but he wasn't brutal. He wasn't cruel. His hands massaged and soothed, and his teeth claimed, and his nails raked and it made him ache and cry out for more _more MORE_—but it was not a problem, no way. He could leave Matt, unlike the way he could leave L. He'd done it before.

A flinch went through him and he looked towards the horizon, and the steadily rising sun. It couldn't be morning already, could it? He hasn't slept a wink. His brows laced and he tilted his head to the side slightly. Such impossibility… He closed his eyes tightly and raised himself to his feet, stepping inside, and up the crumbling and crooked and creaking stairs, opening the door to the apartment and gazing at a fully-dressed and smoking Matt.

Those brown eyes raised and met Mello's, and the gaze locked for a minute, before it separated as Matt stood. Shortly after, they were simply hands and tongues and bare clothes and _lust_ and it was perfect for the time.

When it was over Mello couldn't bring himself to look at Matt, let alone touch him again. While the other slept on his stomach in the bedroom, Mello was stretched out on the couch and not asleep, his mind wandering, wandering again, towards L. Those tired black eyes and the uncomfortable slouch in his shoulders…

Sleep finally crept on him and an unnoticed tear slid from the corner of his left eye.


	2. Hallelujah

He knew the truth. God, did he know the truth. Those green eyes were never his. Never. Those heart-shaped pink lips, usually chapped and rough; those gorgeous blonde locks that he always loved to play with and curl around his fingers. None of it was EVER his.

That smile was false when it was directed at him. That laugh was forced. Those gasps, as real as they were, would never be directed towards him. Those green eyes had a different image on them, in them, surrounding them; an image of a completely different person. And sometimes, even, in the middle of their passion, that name would fall from his lips. It wasn't even a name; but they both knew so much better than to acknowledge that fact—just like he knew better than to acknowledge the fact that it had happened.

But damnit, it hurt.

Heavy breaths passed his lips as he pressed them against the other's pulse, listening to him whimper and coo and moan; listening for _his own _name amongst those noises, only to hear none. Nothing of the sort. Oh god, no, that wouldn't EVER happen.

A sad smile slid onto his own chapped lips and he pulled the little blonde closer to him, kissing him softly, sweetly, feeling those chapped things part underneath his tongue, and that bubble-gum pink and chocolate tasting muscle dancing with his own cigarette flavor. That alone made him smile and he spread the other's legs wider.

God damnit, it hurt so bad.

Especially when it was over and the blonde was so disgusted with himself that he had to dress in a hurry and stumble his way out of the room, on wobbly legs. He knew the blonde thought he was asleep when he stretched on the couch, but he was always wide-awake. He was always listening for any sound of pain and discontentment from those perfect lips. Smoke drifted casually up to the ceiling fan, which pushed it instead towards the window, and bare, calloused fingers flicked the ash to the floor next to the bed.

That's when it came in from underneath the door. It was near silent at first, only slightly building volume, and he knew what it was; he'd seen it before a dozen—a hundred times, even. Those gloved hands covering his beautiful, albeit scarred, face, and boney shoulders rocking with the force of those quite sobs.

After all these years, recovering from the heartache wouldn't happen to the poor thing.

Opening the door silently and leaning in the doorframe as he watched Mello sob, all he could think about was walking over and wrapping his arms around him and just holding him there, holding him in his soft and gentle and loving embrace. But that would get him a few curses, a rant, and more likely than not a good punch or two to anywhere the blonde could reach.

"I'm sorry," his soft voice cracked out, those gloved fingers lacing in his tousled blonde hair, "I'm sorry, L, I-I'm so sorry—I need it though… I need that comfort; damnit, l, w-why would you like to me…??"

Hurt tore at the brunette's heart-strings and he felt the cigarette break in half between his fingers. He dropped it and carefully put it out with his bare foot—the pain was excruciating, but nowhere near as bad as the pain dripping from his heart and the corners of his eyes. He stared across at the pretty little blonde, who was doubled over himself as he sobbed, apologizing over and over and over to the empty room about how _god damn sorry_ he was that he had slept with Matt _again._

Distaste settled in Matt's mouth and he watched those heaving shoulders again, not wanting to touch the boy—not if it disgusted him that much. The hurt only slid faster down his cheeks than and he reached up to hurriedly wipe them off on his arm, closing the door behind him quietly. He covered his eyes with his hand and slid down the flat of the door, tilting his head back.

Mello's sweet voice was still whispering the long-dead man's name, over and over, and he knew that his heart would forever be locked firmly in the palm of that amazing and wondrous man that had caught so many in his net and reeled them in—he was no exclusion, and neither was Near. The two of them; it would never have effected them as harshly as it effected Mello.

They had both known their family, if only for a short while. He could remember his mother's face; and Near had that brother of his he could always think back towards when things were hard. Mello was the only one who had been an orphan since he was born; they didn't know how, but somehow, he'd gotten to Wammy's. More than likely, his mother had left him on the step and never looked back. L had been the only one in his life, ever, that had come close to family.

L was his brother—L was all of their mentor and role model and _fucking hell_ how did Mello even stand on his own for all the time?

The sobs from outside the room were getting just a bit louder and he knew those tears were starting to dry up, and he turned his head to face the room he knew the other was in. He wanted to take care of him fucking _hell_ did he. But that would only make the blonde made and reject him more, more, more…

So he sat there, as close as he could get without getting screamed at, and let his presence—or rather, absence—comfort the sobbing blonde. Maybe his absence kept L there; maybe Mello shouldn't have called him. Truth be told, he was only needed for little, stupid thing. Stupid, stupid things, like keeping track of Near, and his skills. Damnit, it hurt just to think like that.

"Mello," he whispered gently, silent to the other, "I love you." He looked at the ceiling as he heard the other sob their mentor's name, and a weak smile slid onto his lips.

Mello had never been his; and, as much as it hurt, he was fine with that.


	3. Too Young

Listless blank eyes just simply… stares. Up at the ceiling. He could feel the blonde's touches, but he couldn't _feel _the blonde's touches. Those hazel eyes slowly closed, halfway, not the entire way. Thin hand clutched at the blankets and he let out a little bit of a cry as he spilled himself onto the other's tongue, that mouth removing him with a lewd 'pop'.

The blonde hurriedly spat it out into his hand, wiping the sticky white mess onto the blankets, nose curled in distaste. Matt's chest heaved in his effort to breath, uncovered eyes trying to focus on the ceiling fan, heavy gasps passing his lips. He turned his head slowly towards the other and he tilted his head carefully, eyes half-lidded, a weak smile crossing his lips.

"S-sorry.." he whispered, sitting up carefully. "I know how much you hate that…" His shoulders slouched and he rubbed the back of his neck, looking up at him. A sad smile slid onto his lips and he stretched a hand out to touch the other's shoulder, only to have it bat away, slapped at, and an angry glare from green eyes. The brunette's shoulders hunched a bit and he looked down, sighing a little bit.

Matt gave a lot of blowjobs—but rarely ever received one. But that was because of the fact that he always came too fast, and into the other's mouth. That wasn't a right reserved for him. Oh no. That was something that was reserved for that reoccurring remembrance—that reoccurring image—

L.

His stomach churned and he had to stand up and lean out the window, just so he wouldn't get sick. But the light hurt his dark-adjusted eyes, and he hurriedly returned to the confines of the dark room. He could hear Mello fixing his vest back on and lacing his boots, adjusting his gloves—he turned to face the other with a sad look in his eyes.

"Mell—"

"Matt, just shut up," the blonde finally whispered, his back to the other. Matt had his back to him as well, but at least had the courtesy to look, _look_, at him. The blonde continued to stare forward, "you know that it doesn't make it any better, no matter what you say. So don't even bother." He adjusted his gloves the rest of the way and was about to leave when Matt decided—enough was enough.

His hand reached out and gripped the other's shoulder, and he forced him around, hearing the growl and the snarl—he didn't even care when that fist hit his jaw, simply allowing his head to snap to the side as he accepted it. Those hazel eyes looked up at met the green, a strange shine in them; something that wasn't usually there with Matt. Sorrow. Distress.

That never happened to Matt—he wasn't supposed to feel those things, right?

"Mello," he whispered, gripping the other tighter, "Mello, god damnit, I'm sick of this.." he shook his head twice and pulled the other's shirt into tightly drawn fists, shaking him a bit. "I'm fuckin' sick of this!! He's dead, okay? He's DEAD!!" he shook him again, glare settled on his brow. "You need to grow up and get rid of that memory—it only brings you down!!"

He turned his head to think for a moment, and faced Mello again as he thought of something to say, taking a breath, when the other chimed in, "You fuckin' idiot." He whispered softly, eyes half-lidded. "You're such a fuckin' brat—you're worse than Near, damnit; at least he acts more mature than you. You're older than he was and—and—" he trailed off and shoved roughly against the other's shoulders, forcing him off and away, and placing a well-aimed punch to his already-tender jaw.

"You're such a brat!! Stop actin' like I'm yours!!" he stomped his foot, boot making a loud 'thud', and kicked the other in the side, hearing his breath hitch. "I'm not anyone's god damn property!! I'm not yours, I'm not Rod's, I'm not Nears—I'm not…" but at this second, there was a slight pause, before he continued. "I-I'm not property!!" He turned his back to the other and growled furiously, but Matt could hear those tears under his breath. He stood, wiping the blood from the freshly-made split on his lip. Would he do what he normally do; stand in the background and watch the other stomp away…? With a frown, he slid on his pants and hurried after him, listening to his yells and growls and barks of anger, following them to where he was knelt down, holding chocolate, his other arm around his legs.

He stood behind him, gazing down, hearing the other sniffle a bit and whisper a few incoherent things. His bare hand tugged the other up by his forearm and pulled him to his chest. He threaded his fingers through his hair, listening to the yells and snaps and absolute ferocity of the other's words. But not the words.

"What… do you want from me Mello..?" he finally whispered, simply the holding the other to him, a sad look in his eyes. He clutched him closer, and buried his nose into the top of his head. "I've given you all I _fucking _can—love, support, sex—do you want my life too, Mello…? Is that what you want…? Y'should know that I'll do anything… Fuck, Mello…" Tears started to slide down his cheeks as he clutched the other closer, as close as he could go, without them being the same person, and breathed in the scent of his hair.

Mello was limp and silent in his hold, the chocolate bar falling to the ground. But, a moment later, his hands were sliding around the other's neck, arms looping around him. Matt knew what this was—Mello just wanted to be let go of, so he'd try anything to get him to let go.

"I want an answer, Mello," he whispered softly, and that made the blonde jerk—a flinch, if one could call it that.

"…you're still too young." He whispered weakly to him, pushing the other away. "You don't know… that in this world… You push other's out of the way to get stronger." He turned his back to the other and dipped down to pick up the chocolate bar, eyes half-lidded. "I'll do that to you some time. And, yeah, more likely than not, I'll want your life. You'll do anything for me, won't you…?"

The two shared a bitter smile and a forced bit of laughter, before Matt lit up a cigarette, pressing it to his lips. The blonde stared at him, green eyes half-lidded. "Get me, Matt; I don't want anything else from you. I want your loyalty, your abilities, and your stamina—I don't want anything else." He turned his back and sat on the couch, taking a bite of chocolate. "I'm not looking for… anything else right now."

Matt went back to the shared bedroom and sobbed.


	4. Not Love

Gasping.

Clutching.

Grinding.

Moaning.

Arching.

And the slamming, the slamming, the sounds, the thrusting the thrusting _the thrusting_--

Mello craved it. From head to toe, all he could think about was IT; Matt's lips and his hands and his tongue and his words and his pure throbbing COCK. Oh god, and it sliding in, and then back in farther, and harder, and rougher--an audible groan passed his lips from his place on the couch and he trailed gloved hands up and underneath his (for once) loose shirt, fingertips pinching and taunting and teasing his own nipples. His lips parted and he tilted his head back, strands of hair hanging backwards and revealing the long discolored flesh—his scar, running from the side of his face to his neck, to his shoulder and stopping.

Another groan passed his lips and his free hand undid his pants carefully, sliding inside and clutching the already hardening shaft within the tight confines. His breath hitched and his breaths came out in heavy pants, his knees coming close to each other and the tips of his boots tilting down in the sheer _pleasure_ of it all.

"I'm back," A clear voice rang out, but that didn't stop the blonde from his actions, and his breathing became heavier as he heard the other remove his boots and drop the bag of cigarettes and chocolate onto the table that was more like a stool. His head slowly turned as the other started closer, gazing down at him; at his writhing form, his arching spine, his quick fingers, his fast hand. "…is something bothering you Mello…?" he whispered softly, eyes half-lidded.

He slid around the couch and reached out with his own gloved hands, sliding the other's pants off of thin, boney hips. The entire length of the blonde seemed to leap into the air, Mello's hand still clenched around it, hiding the shock of the suddenly cold air from the most sensitive part. The younger carefully raised his goggles and stripped himself of his gloves and vest, his gaze sliding up to meet the green eyes of the other, and gazing at his flushed cheeks and slicked, parted lips.

The tip of his tongue flicked over the crown of the other's length and his hands slid around the base.

The pretty blonde nearly-screamed in pleasure and curled his spine, brows curling upwards and back arching and his entire body just writhing already, under the soft flicks of his tongue, then the hard sucks that were placed as his mouth engulfed 'til halfway. His entire body trembled and his eyes clenched shut, another soft cry passing his lips—but really, all they were after the initial rush of pleasure were overly loud gasps for air, or soft coos; Matt had become adjusted to this. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he whispered gently, wiggling his hips, hands knotting in the other's hair.

The brunette slid back and kept his finger at the tip, teasing the slit there as his other hand slid up and down entire length, tongue tracing the strong vein at the base. He gazed up at him and closed his eyes halfway, carefully pulling one of the other's nicely shaved testicles into his mouth, absorbing it into the warmth and sucking a bit harder, eyes closing halfway and glistening.

He moaned softly and stroked his hand up the other's length, watching that little frame writhe and arch and moan in pleasure. Mello's head snapped to the side and he grit his teeth, jaw tightening and his hips thrusting upwards towards the other's hand. The mouth was removed and all he could do was growl in disappointment, eyes on absolute fire, needing that release that was causing his cock to throb so roughly, so brutally, so _intensely_ it brought tiny little tears to his eyes.

The brunette chuckled and undid his own pants with deft fingertips, letting them hang loose around his own boney hips. He tilted his head to the side and watched the blonde—his chest heave, and his lips part, and his eyes haze over--…

He was thinking about **him** again.

A sad sigh passed his lips and he reached out, turning the other over and propping him up against the back of the couch, biting his shoulder. The blonde let out a shrill, pleased sound, hips raising just a bit more as his pants were lowered down a bit more.

It felt so GOOD when Matt had his fingers in that tight hole of his, his hips propped up and his head resting against the couch, sweat gathering on his neck and cheeks, cock jumping. As the first finger slid easily passed the ring of muscles, he couldn't help but moan, eyes closing tightly and small tears stinging the corners. The finger was quickly joined by a second, then a third—today wasn't one of the days for a fourth, or even the whole damn thing, though.

"D-damnit, Matt, more," he ordered, snapped, barked, glaring over his shoulder at the other, "please, god, more…" he only ever said please at times like this; or if he was brought to shame. But Matt never did that. He looked at him and grimaced as he saw it _was_ Matt, tilting his head down and waiting.

The brunette slid his fingers back and leaned over him, rubbing the head of his cock against the other's entrance. It was dry; but that blonde bundle DID like things rough. Oh well.

The cry that passed those pretty chapped lips was amazing, and the small thing cried out, gripping the edges of the couch 'til his knuckles were white under his gloves. Matt's breath hitched and he slid his arms around the other's waist, pulling him up and holding him to his chest. Mello panted, knees on the couch still, head raised high over the other's, his hair sticking to his neck.

The thrusts were rough; they were brutal; they were everything Mello fucking _**needed**_. He arched and cried out as they hit his prostate over and over and over again, his cock throbbing and jerking already, and he let out a loud cry. "J-jesus—fuck—MORE, MORE, L--!!"

If that didn't break the brunette's heart, he didn't know what did. He thrust harder and faster in and out, stroking his cock from base to tip quickly by this point. Mello cried out and arched, moaning again as he exploded onto the other's hand. He trembled horrendously, eyes shutting tightly, and, once Matt spilled inside and dropped him, he toppled forward, his head on the cushions and his ass still high in the air, droplets of cum trailing down the inside of his thigh.

Matt was mad again. He heard his stomping footsteps and the angry flick of his lighter, and he remained in his position for a moment more, standing and adjusting his pants. He swallowed and stepped to the table, eyes half-lidded and cheeks still flushed. Chocolate was clutched and grabbed and he pressed it to his lips, taking a bite, eyes half-lidded. What a mess he was turning that little brat into.

Fuck.


	5. I Hate You

"Fuck you, Matt," Such a furious voice. Such a horridly, absolutely utterly _depressing_ voice, "fuck you--get the fuck away from me!!" he threw things and swatted at him and glared and glared and _glared_ at the brunette. What reason did he have to be mad? Oh no! It was the wrong brand of chocolate!--he'd stayed out too late!--he'd been fucking some sleazey whore(he thought her name was Candy or some bullshit like that) that he'd found lying around!

How was it _any_ different from the torment that Mello put him through?

When the pillow hit him, he just sat there and took it. When another one, and another one did, he didn't move a muscle.

But the very _**second**_ that fist hit his jaw and he was jerked to the side, he snapped.

Something just went

WRONG

with those normally calm eyes of his.

His gaze snapped up to the panting and still--STILL--screaming blonde, growling a bit more than just furiously. "You have got to be FUCKING kidding me." he finally whispered, pushing himself back up to his feet and gazing at the blonde, a frenzied look in his own eyes. When Mello saw it, he let out an angry yell and a snarl, trying his best to back up towards the door and get out of there, to come back when Matt fucking CALMED DOWN.

But there was no such luck for that scrawny little blonde.

When he went for his gun, Matt had his wrist curled around his back and a hand tugging at his hair. He leaned forward and pulled him tight, chin hanging over his shoulder. "Mello.." he hissed faintly, eyes slit and lip curled in absolute distaste. "I've had enough of this, Mello... I'm fucking DONE with this Mello!!" he forced the blonde forward and pressed his face into the wall, still holding tight to his hair. His hips slid forward and started to grind against the other's still clothed rear. It sent a shrill noise and another furious bit of curses and noises.

SLAMSLAMSLAM

Mello swore to GOD that he saw stars as Matt slammed his head against the wall, struggling again, even with the hard ache that was starting at his temple. Was that blood dribbling down his temple? Hazey green eyes slid to the corner of the blonde's eyes as he attempted to look back at Matt; but without the use of his neck and head, it was impossible, and all he could do was wait for it to be over with. The brunette shifted his hand down and quickly started to undo the other's bottoms, grinding forward against him again.

"You--I--Matt, don't, god damnit, if you fucking do thi--"

It was cut short as the blonde was pushed further against the wall, the brunette's cock sliding all the way inside, brutally.

Now, normally, the blonde would have been writhing and screaming and moaning at this. But no, no, not at that very second. When he wasn't already attracted and turned on, oh god, it burned and oh my GOD IT HURT SO FUCKING BAD--!!

Nails traced indents into the already-shitty wallpaper, and he let out scream after pained scream as the brunette slammed in and out of his ass, biting his shoulder fiercely, scratchings his hips and waist and thighs. "God damnit Mello, you're MINE!!" he hissed into his ear, biting it roughly, and receiving a small little noise of pain from the other.

It was by that point that Mello had made up his mind; his jaw clenched and his eyes clenched and his head tilted forward, his entire body tense still. But no sound emitted, the only thing showing his pain the twitches in his body and the gritting of his teeth and the nails scratching down the wall. Matt seemed to not notice and slammed harder and harder and faster in and out of him.

When the grunt of pleasure passed the other's lips, he sank as he was let go of, looking up at the other--only to receive an eyefull of cum. He snapped his head down, feeling the white sticky goo cover his cheeks and chin and neck, eye closed tightly. It burned. But he didn't let an expression of discontent onto his lips, staring up at the other and tilting his head. Swallowing a bit, his clean eye opened and stared at him, little tears stinging them.

"I hate you," he whispered softly, gazing at him. The brunette pulled a cigarette from his pocket after fixing his pants, followed by a lighter, and blew smoke into the air once the delicious treat was ready.

"I know," he murmured, turning his back to the blonde as he left to go continue his work. Mello watched him go, and went to stand up, but couldn't find the will or strength to move himself; fuckin' Matt... Fuckin' _Matt_...


	6. The Sound of Revenge

It'd been mulling over in his head for days--WEEKS even. Weeks and weeks and weeks--it hadn't healed. Oh, he thought he'd gotten over it. He had. But just the sheer _memory_ of the brutality of those thrusts and the pain and the blood he'd felt and the disgusting finish; that shit was a pain to get off, and OUT of his eye. A snarl passed his lips and he closed his eyes tightly, turning his head to the side quickly.

He hated him.

He _HATED HIM_.

Clenching his jaw so hard he could _hear_ his teeth cracking, and his nails had to be sinking into his palms through the leather by that point, he rose to shaky feet and stepped towards the kitchen. They kept the chemicals under the sink, didn't they..? Closing his eyes halfway, he gripped the bottle in a tight hand, dabbing it over a cloth and standing. It was a foul stench, burning his nose and making his eyes well with tears. Ugh, how... utterly disgusting... He turned his head a bit and stepped into the bedroom, watching the brunette slouch forward, typing some bullshit on that flickering white computer screen.

His footsteps were evenly placed and he touched the other's shoulder with a delicate hand, before quickly leaning forward, that arm sliding around his neck and his hand forcing the cloth over the other's nose and mouth, covering it quickly. The brunette squirmed and struggled and stared at him with a confused look, before he finally slouched backwards. Mello let his head drop, a furious look in those more than commonly furious eyes.

Gripping his wrists, he pulled hard and dragged him towards the bed, somehow managing to place the bigger boy onto the bed. He leaned over him and touched his lips and cheeks and forehead, a sneer settling over his lips. His hands easily stripped the bigger of all his clothes, tossing them to seperate corners of the room and glancing at them for a brief moment. But only that moment, 'til he was working again, stretching the other's arm to each bedpost, using a piece of hard and rough twine to tie him up. He stared at him again, head tilting to the side slowly, lips half-parted, and tongue darting out to wet the dry folds.

By the time Matt was starting to come to, Mello was already prepared, simply sitting by him, head tilted to the side as he waited. His tongue felt like a cotton wad in his mouth, so he simply looked at the blonde, attempting to bring his hands down--panic settled into him when he realized he couldn't get his arms down, or his feet to move. Mello's lips curled into that cruel grin as he turned slowly, settling on hands and knees. He tilted his head slowly, hair falling to the side.

"Sleep well, Matt...?" he whispered, reaching up to brush his fingertips down the other's cheek. "Good to hear.." he chuckled a bit and leaned down, pressing a small, soft kiss to the other's throat, then a rough, harsh bite. It sent a small noise of pain propelling out of his throat and he stared at him with a confused look, swallowing a bit. "What? Oh, you don't understand!" Mello laughed a bit and sat up, straddling the other's waist. "It's such a lovely little story; a good week ago, I think it was, you pushed me up against a wall and raped me--don't you remember that? You came in my eye." he leaned close to him again, tongue flicking out over the other's lip. Matt's eyes widened--he'd thought that incident had created an understanding between the two.

Apparently, that wasn't the truth.

Mello chuckled a bit and leaned down, biting the other's chest gently, his hand stretching out to grab an ominous shape from the nightstand. Matt knew what it was--a knife. He let out a panicked sound and tried to squirm again--no such luck. Mello chuckled and licked the edge carefully, eyes glistening. "So you understand now, Matt...?" That false smile snapped into a bitter glare and he reached out, gripping the other's hair, pulling roughly on it and shaking his head. "Why the _fuck_ would you do something like that? Like what _THEY_ used to do?!" Matt knew just what he was referring to--the men that Mello had sold himself to for a while, just to get the money that he needed; to get the ranking he need, and all the items. It got him that special place with Rod; fucking the man's subordinates and putting up with their sick little fetishes.

A flinch crossed his face.

"You wanted to be lovers, didn't you..?" Mello whispered a second later, leaning forward and hovering his lips over the younger's. Matt swallowed hard and gazed at Mello, head tilting to the side carefully. "You fucked up," he finally whispered, reaching down to trail the sharpest edge of the knife down the other's stomach. He smirked at the hitch of the other's breath, and how his shoulders tightened, before he slid down. "I hate you more than ever, Matt," he pressed tiny, but harsh bites over the other's flesh as he made his way down, finding the slice he made. His tongue slid over the blood and lapped it up, just to get a small little taste. God, how delicious...

He moved up and pressed the knife in again, then again. He smiled at the masterpiece he'd made a second later, gazing up at Matt. "That should make you remember.." he mumbled, stripping himself of his gloves a second later, running his fingertips through the blood, and pressing them to Matt's lips. The other didn't have much more of an option than to lap it up, grimacing as he did so

Laughing, Mello slid back down and licked up the blood again, hand stretching back to undo his pants. He lowered them a bit, stroking his length carefully, and gazing Matt in the eye. "You're a virgin back here, aren't you..?" he whispered. Matt's eyes widened slowly and he quickly shook his head, letting out a displeased noise.

"M-Mello, do---"

"**YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!!**" The blonde screeched, sitting up and slamming his fist into the other's jaw. "You have no FUCKING word to say in all of this!! No!!" he stared at him, little tears stinging the corners of his eyes and running down; he didn't even seem to notice as he raised the other's hips and pressed the head of his cock to his entrance. Matt's entire body tensed and his eyes widened as he stared up at the ceiling, swallowing hard.

The screech was horrible; it was so loud and sounded like he was in such utter _anguish_—well, he was.

Mello loved it.

As he started to thrust, rough and hard and fast and brutal, Matt let out these little pained noises, pained screams, pain pain pain _pain_ lining every single feature on his body. His face, his arms, his torso--oh my god, was Matt crying? Mello leaned forward and lapped up the little tear, hearing the other whimper and watching him flinch and turn his head. He laughed and groaned a bit.

"It's so fuckin' tight, Matt..." he whispered gently, sliding in a bit deeper, thrusting in as hard as his little hips would allow. The sounds of bone on bone was disgusting and loud, but Mello didn't let up. The angle was a little awkward though. He slid out with a digusting pop and squelching sound--the other must have been bleeding--and reached back to untie the other's ankles, before raising him up and sliding back into him, deeply. Matt let out another cry of pain, eyes clenching shut tightly. He thought he was free for a moment there; but, of course, no such luck.

He let out scream after scream as thrust after thrust slid in and out of him, each feeling harder and deeper than the last. His throat tore and he tilted his head back, sobbing softly. The blonde could only grunt and groan softly, grinning, gazing as the other. He was so beautiful, the way his shoulders were positioned, and his tears, and his neck arched... He swallowed and felt that ever-amazing feeling of his balls tightening and his entire lower stomach getting hotter--sliding out and up, he stroked his blood-stained cocking twice, and spilled himself onto the other's cheeks--unfortunately, he eyes were closed, and he only hit the lid. He panted softly, sliding back, leaning back on the heels of his hands and tilting his head backwards.

"Jesus, Matt," he whispered gently, standing, "we'll have to do that again." he laughed and reached out, undoing the other's wrists quickly, and standing straight, adjusting his pants. A content smile slid onto his lips and he turned his back to the other, stepping out of the room.

With his job done for the day, the only thing there was to do was lay around and sleep. Stretching on the couch, he folded an arm behind his head, listening to the sobs coming from the bedroom; it was music to his ears; it was the sound of sheer _REVENGE_ and he loved it.

Closing his eyes, he easily drifted off, a big smile on his lips.


	7. Reflections

Things were just a bit more than awkward between the two by that point. Oh, god were they... Where they once sat in the uncomfortable silence in utter peace, now each were in a different room than the other. Eyes hardly ever met; either from shame or despair, it was hard to tell. Each motion put the other on edge, gripping whatever they were holding in a frantic desperation, then staring accusingly as the other walked out.

It was hard to tell who was coping the worst; Matt or Mello. Matt hardly wanted to take his clothes off and bathe anymore--not with that large, still-red 'M' permanently carved into his flesh, tattering what was once beautiful. Perhaps it was redemption for the scar that he had once ridiculed so horridly; perhaps it was the fact that he would never escape that utter _attraction_ he felt for the other.

Mello couldn't look at his reflection at any other time than in the morning; shame laced his features, no matter how utterly amazing that revenge had felt, and he couldn't stand the need to vomit whenever he thought about it all.

Tilting his head back carefully, his green eyes were half-lidded, and he let his head loll to the side slightly, blonde hair falling in front of those eyes. His features were worse than normal; he idly touched the tangles in his hair, and he could simply _feel_ the bags beneath his eyes by blinking, and those normally chapped lips were split and so utterly raw...

His entire body lurched forward in fear as the brunette stepped into the room, green eyes wide as he stared up at him, those hazel eyes just as fretful as they stared back. There was tension between both frozen forms, and it was the blonde that finally broke the stillness--stretching his hand out to the other. Matt knew what he expected. His footsteps were evenly placed as he stepped over, placing the box of chocolate bars into the other's hand. The boy pulled it in and close to his chest, tearing the top off and pulling out one of the bars. With the wrapper removed and the treat in his mouth, he engulfed a huge bite, staring back up at Matt.

Those goggles were over his eyes again and he swallowed a bit, before he snatched out and tugged Mello close to him. The blonde's eyes widened and he stared over the other's shoulder, lips parted as he fought to find words. Matt's hands slid through his hair and all he could do was choke in a sob and a shudder a bit, gripping the other tighter--and god, it hurt to hold him against his chest. That scar still burned and hurt and tingled and _hurt_, but at that second in time, it didn't fucking matter.

Mello mattered--Mello, who was slowly starting to respond to the hug and actually _return_ it, **mattered**.

A shaky sigh passed Mello's lips and he closed his eyes, clutching tighter and tighter at the brunette, eyes closing even tighter, body shaking horridly. It was obvious he was fighting the urge to push the other away and scream and bitch.

So silence was all that followed.

A moment later though, he was slapped away from the blonde and glared at, the other's lip curled in distaste. "Don't.." he whispered softly, staring at him with those searching green eyes, distraught as they commonly were. "Just... don't." he pushed his way passed the brunette and stepped into the living room, sitting himself in front of the computer.

Matt stood a bit silently, sighing ever so faintly, eyes half-lidded. He raised a cigarette to his lips and lit it, taking a deep drag, head tilting to the side carefully. Blowing the cloud into the air, he sighed softly, feeling just the slightest bit better about it all.

But the cloud of dread still hung over his head. It wasn't a good idea to trust Mello like he did... It really wasn't. He didn't know when that bundle would snap like he had that short time ago, when he would scream at the top of his lungs like before, and tear him apart again--a visible flinch crossed his features and he clenched his eyes, looking down. The bleeding had been a bitch to stop...

Coughing into his fist, he stepped over to the window and opened it, leaning against it carefully and blowing smoke into the air. Now wouldn't that be a horrible thing to be punished for..? Smoking without a window open... A bitter smile slid over his lips and he closed his eyes halfway.


End file.
